For Your Eyes Only
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Set during S3 and (mostly) relating to Sherlock's 'bolt-hole': There are some things that only Molly is allowed to see. Implied/Pre-Sherlolly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just a little something that has been floating around in my files for a while that I (finally) got around to doing something with. A big thank you to beautywithin22 once again who kindly looked over it and reassured me about :) The title comes from the song of the same name. This chapter is set somewhere between TEH and TSOT.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_**For Your Eyes Only**_

...  
_For your eyes only, can see me through the night_  
_For your eyes only, I never need to hide_  
_You can see so much in me_  
_so much in me that's new_  
_I never felt, until I looked at you_

_For your eyes only, only for you_  
_You see what no one else can see_  
_Now I'm breaking free_  
_For your eyes only, only for you_  
_The passions that collide in me_  
_The wild abandoned side of me_  
_Only for you, for your eyes only_

_For your eyes only, the nights are never cold_  
_You really know me, that's all I need to know_  
_Maybe I'm an open book_  
_Because I know you're mine_  
_But you won't need to read between the lines_  
-'For Your Eyes Only,' Sheena Easton  
...

Molly paused on the stairs as she caught sight of Sherlock sitting on the landing outside the door to her flat.

"I lost my key," he explained, standing up as she came to join him.

Molly raised an eyebrow, "You never had a key."

Sherlock had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself as he watched her unlock the door, "I wasn't sure if this was still ok."

Molly paused in the doorway to look back at him, "I told you that I would always be here, Sherlock," she told him seriously, "and I meant it. Nothing's going to change that," she added, leading the way into the flat.

Sherlock didn't look convinced, but he followed her inside.

Before he left, Molly's flat had been one of his favourite bolt-holes, if not _the_ favourite. No one, not even Mycroft, ever considered looking for him there which added to its other advantages.

The most important being Molly; who never bothered him or betrayed his location and whose quiet, unobtrusive presence was almost soothing. He'd liked knowing that she was around and had appreciated (not that he'd ever admitted as much) the small ways that she'd cared for him when he'd stayed with her.

Little things that he doubted very much would stay the same now that he was back and _Tom_ was on the scene. But he was just stubborn (and selfish) enough to be unwilling to give up his favourite bolt-hole regardless of any changes.

He realised how wrong his assumptions had been when he eventually made his way to the spare room and found things essentially as he'd left them two years previously. The suitcase he'd left there once was still under the bed, one of his books was still in the top drawer of the bedside table and the bed was still made up according to his specifications.

Sherlock swallowed as he took a moment to take it all in.

"I wasn't sure when you'd be back," Molly explained quietly from the doorway, "good night," she added after a moment as she continued down the hallway to her bedroom.

He heard the door close quietly behind her and shook himself, "Good night," he said to no one in particular before he shut the door and settled down for the evening.

When he surfaced the next morning, Molly had already gone to work but she'd left some food out for him and a mug next to the kettle.

In the stillness of Molly's kitchen, Sherlock took a moment to admit that he'd missed this, missed _her_.

The sound of a car passing outside stopped him from straying further into sentimentality and he moved to make himself a cup of coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This one is set after TSOT.**

Molly regarded the lump in her bed with a hint of amusement as she silently congratulated herself on convincing Tom not to walk her home after John's wedding.

The lump didn't move, but a muffled voice spoke from under the blankets: "The spare bed was lumpy."

Molly bit her lip to hide a smile, trying to remind herself that she should be angry that he'd broken into her flat.

Again.

"Comfortable?" she asked, putting her bag down and shrugging out of her coat.

Sherlock's only response was a muffled grunt and she shook her head.

"I thought you liked the spare room because you needed the space," she commented, taking a seat on the end of the bed to take off her shoes.

Sherlock rolled over and regarded her back blearily, "Space is irrelevant," he grumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around his shoulders as he settled back down.

Molly looked at him over her shoulder, "I'm tired, Sherlock," she said wearily, "I hope you don't intend to kick me out of my own bed."

"I never said that," Sherlock said after a moment, his voice sounding a little thick.

Molly shifted so that she could see him properly, trying to get a hold on her shock. "I thought you didn't sleep," she said finally, once she'd found her voice.

Sherlock shrugged a shoulder, "Only when I'm on a case."

Molly hesitated, "Wouldn't…wouldn't 221B be more comfortable?"

There was a long silence, "It doesn't feel right anymore," he confessed in a low tone, "nothing feels right anymore," he added, his voice barely audible.

Molly swallowed, surprised to find herself close to tears, "What do you need?" she asked softly.

This time his voice was so low she had to strain to hear him: "You."

Molly closed her eyes as a lone tear made its way down her cheek; weeks later she would pinpoint that moment as the one when she knew her engagement was over. Now, however, she said nothing as she stood up and silently continued to get ready for bed.

As she slipped under the covers, she wondered whether this would count as being unfaithful; especially when Sherlock ended up wrapped around her at some point during the night. In the end, however, she decided that the worst part was that it was the best sleep she'd had in two years.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is set in HLV after Sherlock was rushed to hospital from 221B.**

Molly took a moment to compose herself before stepping through the door to the hospital room. She breathed a small sigh of relief to see that Sherlock was still asleep.

"You silly boy," she said in a low tone, her tone a mixture of affection and exasperation as she came over to stand by his bedside.

She shook her head as she tentatively reached out to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. "Please don't do that again," she murmured, as she continued to stroke his hair gently, gaining confidence from his continued repose.

She took a steadying breath as she blinked back a couple of tears, "You scared me," she whispered, running a finger down the side of his face.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock croaked, making Molly jump.

"I thought you were asleep," she told him, looking a little self-conscious.

Sherlock looked up at her blearily, "I was." His eyes drifted shut again, "You can keep stroking my hair if you like, it's quite soothing."

Molly bit her lip to hide a smile, "Really?"

"It could be the morphine of course," he cracked an eye open, "purely medicinal," he added with a level stare, slightly marred by his addled state.

This time she did smile, "I see."

She watched him carefully for a few moments, waiting until his breathing deepened before reaching out to resume stroking his hair.

Sherlock gave a satisfied sigh, "I didn't think you would come," he confessed sleepily, making her start. "I thought you'd still be angry," he added softly, his voice tinged with regret.

Molly shook her head with a rueful smile, "I was only angry because I care," she said after a moment, squeezing his hand gently.

Sherlock caught her hand, "Don't ever stop caring, Molly," he said finally, he opened his eyes slowly and regarded her groggily, "please."

Molly squeezed his hand, "Always."

Sherlock nodded absently as his eyes drifted shut, "I'm glad Tom's gone."

Molly chewed her lip, struggling with the almost traitorous impulse before she bent to kiss his forehead.

"Me too," she confessed in a whisper.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is set at the end of HLV, the night before the airport scene. **

Sherlock was missing.

Out of everyone who knew him, Molly was the only one who wasn't concerned. Even when John had explained to her what had happened and that Mycroft had let him go – for the moment – she hadn't been afraid of what he might do or where he might go.

She _knew_ where he would go, or at least suspected.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she came home from work to find Sherlock curled up on her bed with Toby.

"I assume John told you," he said without turning around.

Molly nodded, "Yes."

"Did you tell him where I was?"

"I figured you didn't want him to know," she replied, perching on the end of the bed. "What don't I know, Sherlock?" she asked carefully.

"Mycroft is going to send me to Eastern Europe on a case," he rolled over onto his back so that he could see her face, "he gives me six months."

"To solve it?"

"To live."

Molly gasped, "Does John know?"

Sherlock shook his head, "He'd just make a fuss."

"What can I do?"

Sherlock smiled sadly, "You can't save me this time." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, "The East Wind gets us all in the end."

"What?"

Sherlock shrugged a shoulder, catching her eye once more, "It's a story my brother used to tell me when we were kids. The East Wind - a terrifying force that seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth." He paused, "That was generally me."

"What a rubbish big brother," she commented.

Sherlock smirked, "Indeed."

"What can I do?" she repeated after a moment, this time with a hint of desperation.

"Stay with me," he said softly, shifting so that there was space for her beside him.

Molly kicked off her shoes and lay down beside him, "When do you leave?" she asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"Tomorrow."

Molly nodded, blinking back her tears, "I have so many things I want to say to you but I can't find the words," she whispered.

Sherlock reached for her hand and gave it a small squeeze, "I know."

Molly turned her head to look at him, "Is there really no hope?"

Sherlock's only response was to pull her towards him, holding her close. Molly buried her face in his chest and burst into tears.

Sherlock's hold on her tightened and she burrowed further into his embrace; eventually her tears subsided and she fell into a fitful sleep.

When she woke up the next morning, Sherlock was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: And, finally, after HLV.**

Molly yawned as she let herself into her flat, it had been a long day and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed.

Dropping her bag and keys by the door, she didn't even bother to turn on the light and made her way to her bedroom in the dark. Stifling another yawn, she kicked of her shoes and flopped, face down on the bed.

"Sleep deprivation is no excuse for poor observation," said a deep voice next to her.

She started and lashed out into the dark. Her fist connected with something solid and she snapped on the light as she rolled off the bed.

"At least it hasn't hampered your reflexes," Sherlock commented drily, rubbing his cheek as he sat up.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to calm her breathing as she recovered from her fright and climbed back onto the bed.

"I needed to be sure you were safe," he replied easily as he stood up and peered out the window. "A necessary precaution considering your apparent disregard of the danger," he added with a frown as he turned back to face her.

Molly made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a yawn, "If Jim really is back, he's hardly going to come after me."

Sherlock regarded her for a long moment, "He told me once that he would burn the heart out of me."

Molly looked up at him, "That's awful," she murmured.

"Do you really think that after all this time he wouldn't have worked out how he would do that?" Sherlock continued in a serious tone, ignoring her comment.

Molly looked confused, "I don't understand," she confessed after a moment.

Sherlock sighed as he took a step closer to the bed, "You matter, Molly," he told her, "you matter the _most_," he added significantly, "a fact that I'm sure wouldn't have escaped his notice." He looked away, "This time," he added in an undertone, turning in a small circle as he checked the room for anomalies.

Molly felt her eyes droop as she tried to process what he was telling her, "Should I be worried?" she asked finally.

Sherlock turned back to look at her and his expression softened as he took in how tired she really was. He shook his head slightly, "No," he assured her.

Molly nodded slowly, "Ok."

"Get some sleep, Molly," he added, his tone almost gentle.

Molly nodded again as she settled down, a thought occurred to her, "Stay with me?"

Sherlock hesitated.

"Please?"

He silently acquiesced by joining her on the bed once more, Molly turned off the light and surprised him by curling into his side. His shock intensified as he realised that he'd wrapped an arm around her.

"Are you sure it's safe?" she asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

"I won't let him hurt you," he promised, "sleep now."

She snuggled deeper into his side, "Mm-hm."

He listened as her breathing started to level out, "Sherlock?" she asked sleepily.

"Hmm?"

"Does this make me your heart?"

Sherlock froze as he contemplated his answer and whether he'd revealed too much, too soon but he soon realised that she was asleep.

He watched her sleep for a few moments before he nodded.

"Yes."

...

**A/N: So, this is likely to be my last story for a while as I'm going away on holiday for a couple of weeks - but please feel free to send me any prompts/requests/whatever as I know I'll be very keen to get back into it when I get back! **

**Thanks for reading! x**


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